


Murderize Me, Baby

by schnoodle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Wraith Squadron (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schnoodle/pseuds/schnoodle
Summary: When a friendly competition between Wraiths gets out of hand, who will be the last one standing?





	Murderize Me, Baby

Kell Tainer, young, tall, the Wraiths’ resident demolitions expert. And a dead man, if Wes Janson ever got his hands on him. That was unfortunate for Kell, really, since he was about five feet from the man and not very well hidden. The low ceilings at the Hawk-bats’ asteroid base were riddled with ventilation tunnels, but Kell just _had_ to pick the one with the faulty covering that didn’t close all the way. Kell tried to hold it closed, wincing at the faint _clang_ that sounded as metal met metal.

Below him, Wes Janson paused. Had that been a sound, made by his quarry? He looked up, and locked eyes with the man he had pursued for the better half of the day. _No second chances_, he had told the younger man. He reached for his blaster.

Above him, Kell swore. He moved quickly, fingers deftly undoing the loose screws that held the vent covering in place. He had already removed all but two of them, the remaining screws halfway undone to allow ease of removal. Not pausing to admire the brilliance of his plan, he let the covering drop and scrambled away down the shaft.

At the exact moment the grate fell, Wes fired his blaster. The resulting shot was blue, and impacted harmlessly on the grate even as Wes dove out of the way. He would have to find a better way to ensnare his sworn enemy, Kell Tainer.

* * *

After crawling for what felt like hours but was in reality only a minute, Kell paused for a breather. He had reached another grate, this one his chosen point of exit. Peering through it to make sure he was safe, Kell began to undo the screws in a similar fashion to how he had undone them in the grate he dropped on Janson. He removed the grille, this time placing it in the vent. He slipped down into the room below, then reattached the covering with no trouble at all. Then, he took a carefully-wrapped package from his pocket and placed it on a transparisteel table in the center of the room.

“The door _is_ locked, I presume.” Kell addressed his compatriots, all seated around the table he had placed the package on.

“_Yes_,” bit out Tyria Sarkin, Force-sensitive, squadron-mate, and girlfriend. “So you did it, then?”

“Not quite. There was a little trouble with the getaway,” Kell clarified.

“So Janson’s after us now?” This was from Face Loran. He had it easy, these were his quarters, and he was a capital-A _Actor_. His role, due to these factors, was to hide Kell and the others when Wes came knocking. And there was no question he would come knocking, it was only a matter of time.

“Oh, _wonderful_. I go to all this trouble to plan this mission, all those excruciating little details none of you said were important—“

“—Ton, the color of Kell’s shoes during the mission _aren’t_ important—“

“—and _Kell Tainer_ goes and royally screws the whole thing up. Why do I even bother?”

“Hey, I can’t have messed up _that_ bad,” argued Kell. “I did get the package, didn’t I?”

“Did you? For all we know, you could have brought us a rock. Did you bring us a rock? We could give it to Wes and watch him hit you with it,” said Piggy. The bio-engineered Gamorrean was ever the pragmatist.

“I didn’t bring you a rock,” insisted Kell. “Anyways, I was just about to open the package.” True to his word, Kell began to unwrap the package that was in the middle of the table. The others leaned forward, each displaying varying degrees of anticipation…

* * *

“_He got away_?” Wedge Antilles asked, his voice both impossibly cold and full of fire, his eyes glinting beneath his furrowed brow, his jaw set firmly in a steely grimace, his hands tightly gripping the edge of his desk to prevent him from beating it. The display would have terrified any normal man, or even a number of others.

Wes Janson, of course, was special. “Yub yub, Commander.”

Wedge sighed, lifting a hand from the desk to massage his temple. “Wes, we need to find him. _You_ need to find him. _Immediately_.”

“Yes, sir,” Wes said, shooting Wedge a sloppy salute as he left the room.

* * *

Wes Janson whistled as he walked down the hallway outside Wedge’s office, his hands shoved in his pockets in an attempt to appear inconspicuous. It didn’t work. Both Shalla Nelprin and Dia Passik, who had been playing cards in a relatively out-of-the-way alcove not too far from the official unofficial gambling center on base, turned to look at him, the latter of the pair asking, “Do we even want to know?”

Without being invited, Wes ducked into the alcove and turned a chair around to sit on it backwards, facing them. He furtively looked around, then, stage-whispering for dramatic effect, told them, “I need your help.”

Shalla rolled her eyes, leaned slightly towards Dia, and dryly repeated, “He needs our help.”

The Twi’lek woman smiled ferociously and tilted her head a fraction of an inch. “And why should we help you?”

“What’s in it for us?” Shalla joined in.

Wes rubbed the back of his neck. The contents of the package stolen by Kell Tainer were supposed to be top-secret, and if he went around telling everyone, no good could come from it. On the other hand, he couldn’t do this alone. Making up his mind, he told them what was in the package. “You’ll each get an even share,” he promised.

The two women shared a brief look. “We’re in,” Shalla said, Dia nodding alongside her.

“Great!” exclaimed Wes. “You won’t regret this.” At that, one of Dia’s lekku twitched slightly—a sign that she already did regret it. Unperturbed, perhaps because he didn’t notice anything, Wes continued, “So here’s the plan…”

* * *

“So here’s the plan,” said Kell as he wrapped the package back up. Frantic knocking at the door interrupted him, and Ton went to open it. When he did, Runt burst through, and barreled forward, almost smashing into the table and the package that laid on top of it.

“We weren’t followed!” he announced in answer to the unasked question on everyone’s minds. The “We think…” that followed was hardly reassuring.

“And?” prompted Kell. “What did you find?”

“Commander Antilles told Lieutenant Janson to get the package back, as we thought he would. He seemed angry,” answered Runt. “We don’t think it will take long for Janson to find us. This isn’t a very good secret lair.”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” declared Face. He didn’t elaborate on his statement.

“It smells like moldy cheese in here,” said Tyria. “That makes it, by definition, a bad secret lair.”

“What—Ton is the one who leaves his cheese out—Kell, go over the plan again—“ spluttered Face.

“Gladly. So, the plan is for all of us—“ Kell gestured to indicate everyone in the room except Face and Ton, “—to go somewhere out of sight from the door if Janson or Commander Antilles come knocking. Face, you’ll have to charm them into going away. Phanan, if that fails, punch ‘em. And if _that_ fails…” Kell took a steadying breath and straightened his posture before continuing. “If that fails, shoot to kill.”

* * *

“Are you in position?” Wes murmured into his comlink, a standard civilian handheld model linked to a military earpiece. He had set up a frequency using one of Wedge’s high-level encryptions to prevent Kell Tainer and his traitorous allies from listening in, and Shalla and Dia both had hands-free headsets that used the same encryption.

“Almost there,” came Dia’s reply. It would’ve been barely audible if Wes hadn’t accounted for that and turned the volume up beforehand; the girls’ part of the mission required absolute silence for it to work. “They haven’t left the drop point, right?”

Wedge’s voice crackled over the comm at full volume, startling Wes. “Affirmative. No movement yet.” A moment later, a single click came from Shalla: _Message received_.

Wes didn’t have to wait long for the go signal, two clicks over the comm. When it came, he acknowledged it with a return click of his own, then adjusted the volume of his earpiece. Satisfied that no one could detect his comlink either visually or by overhearing a message, he lightly knocked on the door to Face Loran and Ton Phanan’s shared quarters.

The door opened a fair amount to reveal Face, and no one else. Wes had one hand in his pocket, a display that seemed casual enough but allowed him to click his comlink three times. _Status update_. “Lieutenant Janson, sir!” Face said, standing to attention and throwing up a quick salute.

At the same time, Wedge’s voice came through Wes’s earpiece, much fainter than it had been before. “Phanan is behind the door. The others are scattered in various positions chosen because they cannot be seen from the door, where you are.”

Wes acknowledged this update with another comm click, as he said, “At ease, Lieutenant. I’m just looking for Kell Tainer. Have you seen him?”

* * *

Wes Janson’s voice carried throughout the tiny room. “…I’m just looking for Kell Tainer. Have you seen him?” Behind the door, concealed from view, Ton Phanan prepared to act.

“Can’t say that I have. Not since breakfast, anyway,” amended Face, as Janson probably gave him a suspicious glare. “He was talking about organizing his explosives cache—I know it’s a weekly thing he does, but I don’t see _why_, it’s like he’s obsessed with that collection—and I haven’t seen nor heard from him since.” Ton could picture Face’s smile, the perfect picture of innocence, as he asked, “Why? Is he in trouble?”

Janson leaned on the doorframe, peering into the room as casually as he could. “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to go over a few rules regarding that explosives cache of his…” His sentence trailed off as he caught sight of the package that had been carelessly left on the table. “Well, if you haven’t seen him, I should be moving on.” He turned to leave, and to Face’s surprise, actually did exit the room and move on down the hall.

Face closed and locked the door, looking as smug as humanly possible. “And that, my friends, is how it’s done.”

* * *

Wes made like he was leaving, but once the door to Face and Ton’s room was closed, he doubled back in the other direction. Taking the comlink out of his pocket, he keyed it on, and said, “Phase Two is a go, I repeat, Phase Two is a go.” Clicks from all three of his comrades acknowledged this statement, and Wes headed back to Wedge’s office, leaving Shalla and Dia at the drop point.

Once inside Wedge’s office, Wes examined the video coming from within Face and Phanan’s quarters. Wedge had managed to get cameras all over the base for this mission, but now was exclusively watching the feed from one on the back of one of Phanan’s pet glass prowlers. “Phase Two should work to get them all into the open,” Wes remarked, leaning over Wedge’s shoulder to see the picture better.

“They’ll already be in the open,” Wedge said. “Observe.”

As the pair watched, the other Wraiths left hiding and gathered around the table once more. Though there was no sound accompanying the video, it was clear that they were celebrating a job well done. Only Piggy seemed to have doubts about whether they truly were safe or not, and even those were quickly pushed aside when Kell clapped Piggy on the back.

All of this made Wes _mad_. “Okay, that’s enough,” he decided. “Enough celebrating. It’s time for Phase Two.”

“Okay,” Wedge agreed. “You have everything you need? Detonators? Your blaster?”

Wes nodded. “They’ll never know what hit them.”

* * *

“Shall we celebrate?” asked Face, flashing a winning smile at each of his comrades as he pushed the package across the table towards Kell. “You’ll do the honors, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Kell, and he reached for the package.

_Boom_. The door shook with the sound of a small explosion. The small explosion was followed by a large thud, as the door was kicked in and fell to the floor. Through the door rolled a silver sphere. Then, the silver sphere exploded.

White smoke billowed out, filling the doorway and obscuring what laid beyond. Kell reached for the nearest cloth-made object to filter the air he breathed, but cast it aside when his first breath told him it was a dirty sock.

Through the smoke strode a shadow. The shadow held a blaster. The shadow took a step, aimed, and fired. Kell Tainer fell. Another step, a shift in aim, another shot. Face Loran fell. A third step, a new aim, a third shot. Ton Phanan fell. As the wraith took his fourth step into the room, the remaining people finally realized what was happening. But it was too late. Wes Janson had already fired by the time Tyria Sarkin got her blaster out of its holster. She, too, fell.

Piggy didn’t need a blaster to take down an opponent. He was a Gamorrean, bred for violence. Yelling out a warlike cry, he charged. Wes Janson did not run. Wes Janson did not even stand his ground. Wes Janson took another step—a fifth step—and took down the Gamorrean with deadly aim.

Five steps. Five shots. Five hits.

But that was all his blaster allowed for. No more, not now. And still, one opponent remained. Runt, while small for a Thakwaash, was too strong for Janson to match hand-to-hand. Of course, that had never been the plan. While he created a smokescreen, Shalla and Dia had unscrewed the same grille that had originally been used by Kell to enter the room. Silently, they had removed it, and it now sat in the ventilation shaft, wedged next to Dia.

Shalla was no longer there. The moment the grate was gone, she had slipped unnoticed into the room. And unlike Wes, Shalla was perfectly capable of taking Runt hand-to-hand. Less than two minutes later, the Thakwaash was down, and Shalla was only mildly winded. “Are we done here?”

Though Shalla had addressed the room and the fallen Wraiths within, Wes chose to answer. “I don’t see why not. I’ll just take that—“ he picked up the package from where it laid on the table, “—and we’ll be on our way.” Runt, lying on the floor where Shalla left him, made almost as if to stand up. “Dia?” Wes called.

A shot flew from the vent and impacted on Runt’s shoulder. “All clear,” Dia called. She grabbed hold of the edge of the vent and swung herself down into the room, then reattached the covering. “Let’s leave this party.”

* * *

The trio traipsed back to Wedge’s office, the precious package cradled in Wes’s arms. “We got it,” Wes announced, in lieu of knocking as he filed in behind the women.

“I saw,” Wedge remarked, gesturing to the video still streaming from Ton Phanan and Face Loran’s room. “Now hand it over,” he continued, reaching a hand out to take the package.

“No,” said Wes.

“I’m sorry?” Not many things could take Wedge Antilles by surprise. Betrayal by one of his closest friends, however…

“I said no. I’m leaving here, with the package, and you’re staying. All of you.” Wes deftly tossed the package from his right hand to his left, and drew his blaster with his newly freed hand. Because he had entered the room last, he could now point the blaster at all of them without risking being shot unexpectedly in the back.

“And I’m calling your bluff. You ran out of shots in there, I saw it. Your blaster’s empty. Now _hand over the package_,” Wedge said, his voice deadly calm. His own blaster was on his desk, in plain view, and there was no way he could move quickly enough to grab it without getting shot if Wes wasn’t bluffing.

“Go on, then,” Wes said. “Call my bluff.” He nodded at Wedge’s blaster, knowing what thoughts were running through his Commander’s mind.

Wedge made as if to move for the blaster, then hesitated, drawing back. He leaned back in his desk chair and grinned disarmingly at his friend. “Alright, you win.”

Wes nodded. “Good.” It was then that Wedge made his move, hand darting forward to grab the pistol that lay on his desk, thumb twitching to knock off the safety, raising it to aim at Wes and not Dia or Shalla—_Boom_. “I’m sorry, boss,” said Wes as he backed from the room.

That was when Shalla sprung into action, but she was too late. Janson, fully in the hallway by now, keyed closed the door then slammed his shoulder into the controls to fry them. Whistling as he strolled away, he tucked his blaster in its holster and unwrapped the package to take out a cookie. Just one for now. Victory was best, after all, when accompanied by a sweet treat.

* * *

“Damn them,” cursed Kell Tainer as he rubbed his side where Janson’s shot had caught him. “Damn them all—Why did Shalla and Dia even join up with Janson, anyway?”

“He probably promised them an equal share,” replied Face. “Oh, and this was one of my good shirts, too! Why’d he have to go and get paint all over it?”

“Would you rather we were playing with live blasters?” asked Ton.

“But _paint_,” complained Face. “We could’ve used foam balls, or—you know those kids toys with the lightweight plastoid projectiles? We could’ve used those—but paint. _Paint_! And now my best shirt has a bright blue stain on it!”

“Oh, calm down,” snapped Tyria. “We chose that particular paintball manufacturer because the cleaning droids said they could remove it, remember? What’s _important_ is that we lost the cookies, and Janson’s probably getting his grubby little fingers all over them right now.”

Piggy snorted. “We’ll just have to be better next time, then.”

“How can you manage to be so optimistic about this?” asked Kell. “You just got _shot_. By Wes Janson.”

“At least I didn’t get knocked out by Shalla Nelprin, and shot by Dia Passik,” replied the Gamorrean as he gestured a meaty hand towards Runt, who was softly snoring on the floor.

“Good point,” agreed Kell.

* * *

“Damn him,” cursed Wedge Antilles. “Damn him all the way to the ninth circle of hell.”

“I’m sure he’d find a way to bring cookies down there, Commander,” reasoned Shalla.

“You’re right.” Wedge sighed. “You know what? I’m probably there right now. And this is my torture. Wes Janson, stealing my cookies.” A drop of still-wet blue paint slid down Wedge’s forehead and onto the bridge of his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “Still, there was nothing in the rules saying he _couldn’t_ betray me…”

“Next time we’ll get him,” promised Dia. “He won’t get away with this twice.”

Wedge nodded. He knew that today, Janson had made a big mistake by turning everyone against him. Hopefully, it was a mistake that would come back to haunt him.

* * *

Wes keyed open the door to his quarters and locked it behind him. He wanted to enjoy his hard-won cookies in peace. “It’s just you and me, pal,” he said to the Ewok on his bed as he sat next to it. The Ewok, being a stuffed animal, said nothing in reply.

His holocomm chimed, indicating an incoming call. _Probably Wedge, disappointed in me for betraying him_, thought Wes, preparing to decline the incoming call. As he reached over to turn the device off, however, he saw who was actually calling him. At the last second, his finger twitched to press the _accept call_ button.

“Hobbie!” exclaimed Wes around a mouthful of cookie. “You’re not going to _believe_ what happened today.”


End file.
